Drabbles' For the Soul
by pompom1124
Summary: It's simple really. There will be a song for ever chapter and each chapter is a short story/drabble. More Info inside. Ch2 summary: America falls asleep next to a bus top relieving memories. All songs belong to their rightful owners and Hetalia to its rightful owner.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: I'm Just a Perfect Thing

Song: The Boy Who Could Fly

Artist: Pierce the Veil

~~~~5~~~~~~~~5~~~~~~~5

England drunkly walked home, his breath visible in the December night. He felt the salty clears slowly streaming down his cheeks.

It started to drizzle, causing the Englishmen to slightly curse. After a bit he continued down the road, the rain making his blond hair stick to his forehead. The taste of liquor was mesmerized into his tongue, the soft warm liquid with a bitter taste. He sighed when thinking of the bar. America and him had gotten into another feud. And in result England avoided him and drank himself stupid until the bar started to bore him.

The stars shone bright and clear. England simply ignored them, not wanted to be reminded of the crystals blue eyes of a certain nation. Walking towards the door, he grabbed the keys and unlocked it. Slipping off his coat he collapsed on the couch, causing a puddle to form.

Still in such a mood for more liquor, England stumbled to his cabinet and pulled out a bottle. Shakily he poured it into the crystal cup.

He kept on drinking until he heard a crack of lightning. Dropping his glass because of shock, England wearily bended down to pick it up. Heading towards the glass shard he cut his palm, blood slowly trickling out. England froze. He saw the blood and bit his lip. Soon the alcohol took over_._

The pitter patter of the rain was heard against the windows. England left the shards on the floor and stumbled into the living room, crashing into furniture.

Walking up stairs, England ignored the paintings of his favorite rulers and the neat furniture. He ignored the little fairies trying to calm him down, but he just swatted them away in frustration.

Heading towards the bathroom, he stubbornly washed off the blood that trickled off his hands.

America. England held his bleeding head to his forehead in annoyance. He left the git at the bar. He sighed and shrugged it off. At least he had the car.

His mind wandered to what happened back at the bar. The raised voices, the raise of glass beer bottles, the three killer words. I hate you. And the two to finish them off. It's over.

England felt dizzy and slowly kneeled to the toilet, throwing up the alcohol and liquor. He continued retching, making no efforts to stop when hearing the opening and closing of the door and America's voice.

"England? Are you alright?!" Britain forcefully stopped trying to catch his breath, but failed continuing to puke out his emotions, the alcohol, and his guts.

America rushed to the bathroom, to see a puking England. "Stop! England! Stop!" England started to slow down and was able to catch his breath. Puking one last time, he finished and wiped his mouth with toilet paper.

"What...the...bloody...hell are you doing...here?" He panted. "England I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said." America whispered placing his hand on England's shoulder as he brushed his teeth, flossed, applied mouthwash, and a bunch if other mouth hygiene stuff.

When he finished, Britain stared at America in anger and defeat. "Fuck off. If you didn't mean it then why did you say it? Why did I cry? Why did I drink myself silly?" America simply stared.

_(Why don't we just let this one take care of itself?)_

"I didn't mean it." He whispered again. "Liar! Of course you-!" England was cut short by a pair of lips meeting his.

America pushed in deeper, gaining dominance. He wrapped his arms around his lover, and gave it all he had.

_Don't ruin a perfect thing, a perfect thing._

Pushing him against the wall, America simply continued. England participated but thought how he lost the fight.

_I'm losing a perfect thing, a perfect thing, a perfect thing._

As the kiss continued, England kept thinking, how he usually lost emotional fights like this, because America always kissed him before he finished. As the kiss turned into something more, England couldn't help but go with it.

After all...they did love each other...

Right?

**-5-5-5**

**I know the song is Boy who could Fly but I think Perfect Thing is better.**

**-5-5-5-**

**If anyone wants me to do something like this let me know. PM me Only**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: America Don't Cry

Song: America

Artist: Imagine Dragons

-44444444-

America walked down the sidewalk of New York, trying to warm himself up. He dug through his winter jacket until he found a cigarette box. Grabbing the lighter, he took out a cigarette and winced. He hated smoking but it made him feel so free and good. He sighed and put the cigarette to his mouth. Blowing out the smoke, he smiled. The familiar head rush sensation filled him with a floating feeling. Taking one last puff, he dropped it on the grown and started to grind it against his shoes.

Coughing for a bit, as usual he regretted the quick smoke. He rubbed his wrists, somewhat angrily standing at the bus stop looking side to side as if waiting for someone. After a while he calmed down and sat next the the bus stop, grabbing his wallet from his winter jacket. "Heh...*cough*...just a few trillion more...*cough*"

It was freezing cold. America sighed as tears slid down his face. Not knowing why he was crying, he let them fall. He occasionally hacked and coughed, blaming it on the cigarette. Soon his eyes felt heavy.

As his eyes started to flutter close from sleep deprivation, he started seeing memories. He saw citizens of the '60s laughing and dancing. Soon the image changed to the Vietnam War. Blood was on the soil, and young men were being slaughtered. America coughed slightly and pulled his jacket together. Soon he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The tears kept streaming down as he continue to sleep. Memories started flourishing in his mind, and forgotten ones were reborn.

The sun shone bright. America was walking down the road and frowned as he saw an old man of 53 in the field, working and gathering crops. Walking towards him, America grabbed a scythe and started to help. As he bended over to grab the grain, he felt the familiar sound of cars. He froze and saw the gold wheat, turned to a hard, gray, crackled side walked. America saw he was going to pick up a phone. As he got up he turned and smiled, watching the twin towers stand in pride on the clear Friday of 2000. As he walked down the streets, he closed his eyes and cleaned his glasses. When placing the glasses on, he saw people screaming and crying, and rubble everywhere. America refused to turn around, as tears started to spill on the brink of tears. But eventually he turned around and saw the disaster. He cried and screamed, falling to his knees.

Pitter Patter Pitter Patter  
America looked up and saw the rain pouring down from the stormy angry clouds. He stood up and started walking forward, surprised when he saw England in his red revolutionary uniform. America looked down and saw he was wearing his uniform. He looked and saw England yelling as tears slid down his pale face. America saw England come at him with the gun. As America waited, he closed his eyes. Upon feeling nothing, he opened his eyes and found him staring at the graves of innocent dead soldiers.

America walked way from the graves at first, then started running away trying to escape his troubles. He kept running forward, stopping when a car almost crashed into him. He stood in shock and screamed running away, farther from what he knew as the America Dream.

America woke up and saw that it was night. The stars shone brightly in the night sky, and the sky scrapers seemed more intimating. America slowly got up, rubbing the tears away, with no use. They just kept coming.

He grabbed another cigarette and was about to light it up with the dancing flame, until he heard footsteps behind him.

"You're crying aren't you?" The person said plainly. America wiped his eyes and muttered a yes before walking away. He grabbed the now lit cigarette, and started to smoke, the small clouds being visible in the sky.

"You know smokings bad. So why do you do it? Are you ok?" The person asked. America rolled his eyes. "Actually no I'm not okay. And I'm smoking because right now, it's the only thing that can free me from my stress. I hate it, but for now it's an exception. So do me a favor and drop dead will ya England?" England rolled his eyes and sat down next to America on the curb. "Pass me a cigarette." England asked plainly. America carelessly gave him one. England grabbed America's, lighter and lit up the cigarette. After lighting it up, he threw it away and looked at the stars.  
"Dude. What's the point of asking if-"

"To get you to stop. Now please don't cry. You shouldn't cry."

America sighed and shrugged. He threw his cigarette away, and looked up at the sky. "Maybe I shouldn't, maybe I should...But god knows how long I've held it in." England sighed and replied, "Then let it all out."

America chuckled and looked out the sky.

"Whatever you say old man. Whatever you say. But nothing can change what I think or who I am."

"And exactly, who are you?"

"I'm...The United States of America. I'm the hero. But even heroes cry."

Even heroes cry, indeed.

...I got rid of the lyrics happy?


End file.
